


Duck Duck Goose!

by MysticSong, Slave4Severus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Surprise Pairing, Surprise Sex, surprise mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-01-31 15:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18594574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticSong/pseuds/MysticSong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slave4Severus/pseuds/Slave4Severus
Summary: *Originally Published in 2004 & 2005 on FF and Adult FF. This is the Adult FF version.*Co-written by MysticSong & Slave4Severus. On Adult FF, we were MysticSlave.This story was completed in 2007.In yet another potions mishap with Neville, Severus and Hermione find themselves in each other's body. But Hermione's involved with an unexpected person, and . . . horror and hilarity ensues!





	1. The First Accident

**Author's Note:**

> There are sex scenes. Despite the mature rating, we think they are not terribly graphic, especially compared to today's stories, but we decided better safe than sorry. We had to read some how-to's on how to write much of the intimate moments! All the students involved in sexual scenarios are in their 7th year. Rape/non-con in some chapters because there is body switching in the story, and Albus, helpful (and manipulative) as ever, forbids the characters from telling their respective partner(s) who they really are under the surface. Albums has no respect for consent in so many areas, that we didn’t find this to be (sadly) out of character for him.
> 
> This story has been well received over the years, and even on the sites where the last chapter was posted 12 years ago, we're still getting reviews from people loving it. We hope you all will enjoy it as well. The history of it basically goes: We went to dinner and said, "What's the weirdest HP story we could write? Which characters rarely get shipped? Let's do that!" All these years later? Some people still find it to be one of the more hilariously weird ones; some find it tame by today's standards. 
> 
> We tried to use British English. One of us grew up in the US, the other in Germany (before moving to the US), so we may have gotten some things wrong. If we made any egregious errors, please let us know so we can fix them! 
> 
> AFF is not a site you can import stories from (I tried!), so I had to copy and paste each chapter. Somewhere along the way, the formatting over on AFF got messed up . . . a lot. All sorts of weird ASCII characters showed up in the text. In fixing all of that, I have fixed other errors which probably still exist in the version over on FF(dot)net. So if this one seems slightly different (aside from having 1 extra chapter we couldn't include on FF), that's why. Chapters will be added as MysticSong gets them cleaned up and formatted for this site.
> 
> Keep an eye on the chapter names; they may be revealing . . . and you may find luscious little Rickmanisms if you keep your eyes peeled! (And some other pop culture references too!)
> 
> We made up some of the Latin phrases; we researched for the correct terms, but neither of us took Latin, and neither of us wanted to ask Mystic's Mom about how to make certain indecent phrases correct! If you know how to make them more proper, suggest it in comments! (Well, you know, as proper as something can be in a story like this. ;-) )
> 
> We'd love to hear what you think!

It was a typical Potions class. Gryffindors and Slytherins had been paired together yet again. Dumbledore always hoped that someone would get friendly with another house, but it had yet to happen. The only thing it seemed to incite was further house rivalry. Snape, ever favouring the Slytherins, did little to improve the caustic situation. 

The Potions Master swooped around the classroom, praising Draco, the one Slytherin who had made it into his NEWTS classes, and criticizing the Gryffindors to no end. Today they were working on a variety of potions based on their skill level.

Hermione was working with Harry on Polyjuice Potion. Given their experience with it in second year, they were breezing along nicely; with Hermione doing most of the actual potion and Harry simply prepping ingredients. Not to say that he hadn’t improved; he had gotten into NEWT level potions on his own merits, but Hermione knew what she was doing and could do it quickly. Unfortunately it wasn’t a potion that could be brewed in one day and they had to remember to shield it at the end of each lesson to prevent someone from altering it. 

Draco was working on the Draught of Living Death by himself. It was a potion that Snape knew he would make well and since he did need his stores of it replenished, he admitted to himself it would be best to let the young man work alone.

Neville Longbottom, through some luck and sheer determination, was also in the class. Snape had working on the Wit-Sharpening potion and told him to be ready to test it on himself at the end of the lesson. It couldn’t hurt the boy to take it, and it was nearly impossible to ruin it.

Of course, Snape didn’t take into consideration that even by seventh year, despite making it into the highest potions class, Neville was still truly afraid of his professor, and the more the professor swooped around Neville, inspecting his work, the more nervous he became and the more likely he was to make a mistake.

One moment his potion was brewing nicely; the next moment, Snape swooped behind him on his way to inspect Hermione’s work, and slightly bumped Neville. This frightened the young man so much that he dropped his entire bottle of ingredient into the brew. Unfortunately it was bubotuber pus, not armadillo bile. While he had read the list correctly, he had grabbed the wrong vial when Draco jostled him in the storeroom. It reacted violently with the heretofore nicely simmering potion and simultaneously melted the cauldron and exploded across the room . . . into Hermione’s Polyjuice potion and Draco’s Draught of Living Death, completely coating his friend, and, much to his horror, his professor.

Harry and Draco had both missed being splattered by luck of having gone to the storeroom for additional ingredients. They returned to find a horrified Neville and an unconscious Hermione and professor.

Draco sighed and shook his head. Longbottom would never learn. He wasn’t actually bad at potions, but he’d have to overcome his ridiculous fear of people if he expected to get far in the real world. Knowing this didn’t stop him from taking a jab at the boy though. “Nice going, Longbottom! Now I’ll have to start over again and this was a potion that Professor Snape actually needed. Bet he won’t be too pleased to know you ruined a fine batch of the Draught of Living Death!”

Neville looked ready to cry at this point. Harry was no less pleased at having to re-start the Polyjuice potion, but he gave Draco a dirty look. “Leave him be, Malfoy. He was fine until your Head of House knocked into him!”

Draco shrugged and waved his wand over the still forms on the floor. Harry was instantly on the alert. “You better not hurt her!”

“Relax, you poof! It’s just a cleansing charm. Get the Headmaster unless you want to levitate both of them to the infirmary.”

Harry watched him suspiciously until they were both quite clean from the mess and then went to the classroom fireplace to floo-call Professor Dumbledore. Seconds later the wizard stepped through the fire into the classroom to inspect the results of Neville’s most recent explosion.

He sighed and sent Neville back to his common room to relax. He instructed Harry and Draco to clean up the laboratory manually, just in case anything they had been brewing reacted negatively to magic, and then gracefully levitated both student and professor, and drew them down the hallway to the infirmary. Draco gulped silently when he realized he probably shouldn't have cleaned the potion off of Granger and Professor Snape with a spell. Before he could decide if he would own up to his error or not, the Headmaster was gone. Potter, thankfully, seemed oblivious about the whole thing, as he hadn't said a word. Though they were 7th years, nearly adults, he and Potter couldn't help tattling to professors at any imagined wrongdoing of the other, so Draco figured he was in the clear about his mistake. He hoped it wouldn't come back to bite him. 

* * *

 

Night fell, finding both student and professor still in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen for the moment. Snape groggily sat up, mentally cursing Longbottom once again as he realized he had been in here all day long. _‘Blast that boy!’_   His head ached, no doubt from when he had slumped to the floor, and he thought longingly of his private rooms where he had several vials of headache draught ready for consumption. He started to get out of bed when a small ding sounded and Madam Pomfrey was at his side. _‘Bloody alert charms!’_  

He was taken aback, however, when the witch leaned down and patted his hand gently. “There, there dear, it will be alright. There doesn’t seem to be any bad side effects from Mr. Longbottom’s mistake, but Professor Dumbledore would like you to stay the evening just to be safe, love,” she twittered. 

_‘Love? What the bloody hell was she prattling on about? How dare she speak to him like he was a child?’_   He snatched his hand away from the witch and lay back down, quite grumpily. Madam Pomfrey, assuming her patient was merely upset at being away from classes all day, smiled and gently closed the privacy drapes before checking on her other patient. 

_‘Great. The MediWitch treated me as if I was a student and I still have a head-ache. I think she even made it worse!’_ Snape lifted a hand to his head to massage the sore spot. _‘What the? That isn’t my hair!’_ Snape thought in alarm. He pulled a strand forward to examine it, to find himself looking at bushy, curly brown hair. _‘Uhmmm…’_ was all he could muster. He took to examining the rest of his body. Small delicate hands, legs that were much too short . . . he looked down the front of his hospital gown . . . and screamed, “Bloody hell!” 

Madam Pomfrey ducked her head back inside. “What’s wrong, love?” 

Snape was too astonished by his self-examination to be overly concerned with this sudden term of endearment the witch kept bestowing on him. He pointed to his chest. “These are not supposed to be here!” he exclaimed. _‘What the hell was going on,’_   Snape wondered. That wasn’t his voice either. 

Madam Pomfrey frowned. _‘Oh dear,’_ she thought, _‘Mayhap there were bad side effects to this potion.’_   She’d have to talk to the Headmaster again. “Love,” she said to the girl, “you’ve had breasts since third year.” 

In the other bed, Hermione was just coming around when she could have sworn she heard her own voice arguing with Madam Pomfrey. “Madam Pomfrey?” she croaked out. 

The MediWitch turned and opened up the other set of drapes, deciding it would be easier than moving from bed to bed. “Yes, Severus?” she asked, a bit startled at his politeness. 

Snape’s face went slack. “Severus?”

“It’s your name, dear,” the MediWitch said. “You do remember who you are, don’t you? You didn’t have a concussion. . . ” 

“Of course I remember who I am,” snarled Severus, from Hermione’s bed. It didn’t sound quite the same in Hermione’s voice, but Madam Pomfrey still sat down, rather suddenly on the end of what she had believed was Severus’s bed. Student and professor looked at each other in horror as they realized what must have happened.  

* * *

 

A few hours later, the three sat in the Headmaster’s office, trying to explain this unexpected situation. “We were all brewing different potions, sir, based on skill level,” Hermione told him, trying to get used to her professor’s much longer body. “Harry and I were brewing Polyjuice while Neville was working on the Wit-Sharpening Potion, but Draco and Professor Snape made him nervous and he ruined his potion.” Snape glared at her, but with Hermione’s face, it looked more pouting and made Albus’s eyes shine even brighter. “Well you did,” said Hermione to her professor, Snape’s voice sounding a bit petulant and whiny. Albus grinned. Poppy Pomfrey sighed. Hermione turned back to the Headmaster. “I don’t know what ingredients he switched, but when it exploded it landed in both the Polyjuice potion and Draco’s Draught of Living Death, and splattered all over the two of us, apparently,” Hermione explained. 

Albus steepled his fingers. “Well,” he began, “I believe it is best that we keep this between the four of us. Hermione, you will teach Potions, and you, Severus, will attend classes as Hermione. The three just stared at him. “I am sorry, my dear boy,” Albus said to Severus, “but I must insist. Hermione, you will take an apprentice – yourself, and you and Severus will work together to uncover what exactly occurred with the potions and see if you can develop an antidote. There’s always the chance that it will reverse itself due to the nature of Polyjuice, but we cannot rely solely on that hope. Now, why don’t you head down to Severus’s lab and get to know each other. Severus,” Albus said, looking pointedly at him, “make sure Miss Granger knows how to get around the school as you do; she will need to be convincing but it will also serve as protection if she needs to speak to you suddenly should something go wrong. We can all be thankful she is the Head Girl and you won’t have to suffer any roommates!” 

“Oh, yes, that is very reassuring, Albus,” he replied sarcastically. 

Albus merely smiled. “Sherbet lemon?”


	2. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Hermione sighed deeply as she made her way to the dungeons, not really caring if Severus was able to keep up with the long striding walk this body was capable of.  She couldn’t believe Albus wouldn’t let anyone know of this predicament. Well, she could understand keeping it from the students, one could never be sure about which students were Death Eaters in training, but why not the other professors? Min – Professor McGonagall was going to be very unhappy. _‘Oh Merlin!’_ Hermione suddenly realized, _'Professor Snape is going to die when he realizes what he’s going to have to do to keep up this pretense.’_ She blushed furiously, giving the Potion Masters’ face a rare glow of health.  She hoped the Headmaster honestly had no idea about her situation, because to knowingly put another person in such a position . . . 

Once they were in the correct hallway, Snape pushed ahead of her and led the way to his private chambers. He whispered the password at the portrait that guarded his rooms and ushered Hermione inside.

She was surprised to see that the stern, snarky man had pleasantly lush quarters. There were hints of his House colours throughout his rooms, but overall, the colours all complimented each other in a tasteful, subtle manner. It was quite pleasing. She turned to Snape who was sitting in his favourite leather chair, a guarded look on his new face. “You do realize you’re going to have to tell me all your passwords, sir?”

Snape seemed to arguing with himself as he grimaced, then nodded. “Yes, Miss Granger, I am quite clear on what is expected of me. You shall have to do the same.” He sighed as deeply as Hermione had. “Let’s get this nonsense over with. Sit down and tell me about yourself so we can pull this rich façade off. Don’t leave anything out.”

Hermione couldn’t believe she was about to tell this greasy git her life story. Hermione tried to be respectful of all of her professors, but some sure didn't make it easy. She sat down heavily in the chair across from Snape, hands crossed. She stared at them while she gathered her thoughts.

“My full name is Hermione Jane Granger. My parents are both dentists. They named me after a character in Shakespeare’s play _“A Winter’s Tale”_. They are accepting of my being a witch, but not of using magic as a quick fix. They were quite put out after they realized I let me teeth be reduced to normal size instead of the way they were originally. My birthday is September 19 and Crookshanks was a gift to myself in 1993. He’s half tom-cat, half kneazle. During fourth year I was briefly involved with Viktor Krum, but that fell apart when I realized he wasn’t my type. We still write on and off, but we’ll never be more than friends. Ron still gets jealous when I mention him. I used to think he was being over-protective of me, but now I know that . . . well, never mind, it’s not important.” Hermione stopped to think. “Portable, water-proof fires are one of my specialties, I learned how to brew Polyjuice potion during second year, I set your robes on fire during first year, I took double classes third year using a time-turner . . .” she stopped when she realized Snape was staring at her, eyebrow quirked, mouth slightly agape. It was an odd look for the Potions Master and even odder seeing it on her own face.

“Bloody hell,” Snape exclaimed. “What in Merlin’s name did you set fire to me for, girl?”

Hermione shrugged. “I knew someone was trying to curse Harry off of his broom and when I scanned the boxes with my binoculars, I saw what you were doing and totally missed Quirrell. But when you stood up to stamp the flames out, you knocked him over and broke the spell anyhow. I do apologize for thinking you were trying to hurt him though.”

Snape sighed. It was actually a bit funny, but he’d never admit that to Miss Granger. “And the Polyjuice?”

“So we could sneak into the Slytherin Common room to interrogate Draco about the Heir of Slytherin.”

Snape was secretly amazed that a second year student, even one as bright as this girl would have been able to successfully brew such an advanced potion at such a young age. Though it answered the question as to who had broken into his storeroom. “I take it that it was this situation which led to your being turned into a cat, Miss Granger?”

Hermione leveled a look at him Snape found he didn’t much like being on the receiving end of one of his stares. No wonder the students jumped in his presence. “Yes, Professor, it would.”

Snape smirked, and let that particular line of questioning drop. “What do you know about me?”

Hermione pondered this. “You’re an ex-Death Eater, a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, considered a son by Dumbledore, you’re snarky and ill-considerate towards your students with the exception of the Slytherins,” she took a quick glance around her, “and you have wonderful taste in decorating.”

Snape’s lips twitched into a brief smile. “I certainly hope that most of your knowledge does not extend to the entire student body. There is nothing else you need to know about me,” he declared. “As I am sure you know, I am a very private person both with staff and students. Albus knows the most about me and since he is aware of our . . . situation, he will hopefully steer you out of any awkward circumstances.”

Hermione paused a moment, collecting her thoughts, looking for the right words. “Are you . . . involved with anyone, Professor?”

Snape snorted.

“I’ll take that as a no,” said Hermione.

“And yourself,” asked Snape.

Snape watched his cheeks turned a darker red than he thought it was possible for someone to blush, and he’d embarrassed quite a number of students into it.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Snape said, sarcastically mirroring her earlier words. “And with whom will I have the . . . pleasure of consorting with while inhabiting your body?”

Hermione thought her face was going to explode. “Well, it’s a person you know pretty well . . . it shouldn’t be too difficult for you to interact with them . . .”

Snape gazed impassively at his student. “Yes, Miss Granger? How far along is this relationship?”

“Erm, well, you see . . . ”

“What is his name, girl?”

“Well, see, Professor, there’s something you don’t know about me . . . ”

“Miss Granger, I asked you to tell me everything about yourself, did I not? I am quickly getting the feeling that what you are attempting to tell me is something of supreme importance, please stop rambling and get to the point.”

‘If my face gets any hotter, my skin is going to melt off!’ thought Hermione in despair. She sucked in a big breath of air. “I’m gay professor!”

Snape quirked an eyebrow. _‘This could be very . . . interesting,’_ he thought to himself. “Miss Granger, frankly, who gives a damn? Unlike the Muggle world, it really isn’t that big of a deal here in the Wizarding world. With all the reading you do, I’m surprised you haven’t realized that yet.”

 _‘Git,’_ thought Hermione. _‘He won’t be so snarky when I tell him who it is!’_

“Again, I ask you, what is her name?”

Hermione sighed. _‘Here goes nothing.’_ “Minerva,” she whispered, looking at her hands. When no response seemed forthcoming, she chanced a look at him.

He was simply sitting there, staring at her. Snape rose from his seat, strode to his liquor cabinet, pulled out a glass and the Ogden’s Firewhiskey. He poured a neat shot and tossed it back. After a moment passed, without turning around, he muttered, “Please tell me that there is a student here that I am unaware that has the same first name as the Deputy Headmistress!”

“One and the same,” said Hermione, barely above a murmur.

Before Snape could restrain himself, a slight “Urggh….” escaped his lips. He tossed back another tumbler. _‘Just bloody brilliant. Guess we know why she’s Minerva’s favourite student,’_ he smirked.

Deciding it couldn’t get any worse than it already was, Hermione added, “She likes leather.”

Snape, in a body that wasn’t at all used to Firewhiskey, was reeling. Trying to regain his equilibrium, he didn’t really catch what Hermione told him. He staggered over to his private stores and drank down a vial of hangover draught, knowing that in this body, he’d be sure to need it. It wouldn’t do for the Head Girl to show up drunk to classes the next day.

Before the evening could get any more bizarre, Snape quickly informed Hermione of his passwords, how to get about Hogwarts without using the main halls, and then showed her a quick back way to the Head Girls rooms.

Hermione let herself in, making sure he would be able to do so as well, and introduced him to her cat. Thanks to his kneazle side, Crookshanks didn’t seem very alarmed at the switch, and promptly went back to sleep. Hermione showed Snape where she kept her books, her notes, her schedule, and her clothes and other such items. “I do wear a little makeup, sir, but nothing you can’t handle.” She deftly showed him how to apply the bit of lipstick and blush that she wore, and how to tame her unruly hair.

When all was said and done, she turned to Snape and bid him goodnight. “One more thing, sir, Harry and Ron think I’m having extra studies with Minerva.”


	3. Body of Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Snape start getting used to each other's bodies. Snape is someone more . . . relaxed about it than Hermione!

Severus closed the door behind Hermione and shook his head. Extra studies? How thick could those two boys really be? Well, he supposed it was reasonable enough, what, with all the classes Hermione tended to take. He wondered if Minerva had only given her the time-turner for extra classes . . . he hoped so. Hermione would have only been 13 then. He shuddered. He was suddenly curious as to how old the girl really was. Perhaps she used a glamour charm to conceal it if she was noticeably older than her classmates. He half-shrugged, deciding that _finite incantatum_ probably wasn't a good choice at the moment. He wasn't familiar enough with this body to be able to reconstruct the spell if she was in fact using one. As long as it didn't fade he should be fine, but he made himself a mental note to check that out at a later date. Perhaps Hermione was well past her majority by the time she got involved with Minerva. He shuddered again. Majority or not, the whole idea still repulsed him. Minerva was a friend and unexpected confidante from his student years; he was not relishing the thought of experiencing something more intimate with her. He could have sworn the Head of Gryffindor had had a long-standing relationship with Albus.

He decided that before he even attempted to sleep, he should investigate the room that was now his. It wouldn't do if he was unable to find the correct clothes, or her homework, or wand, or her schedule, although he was quite sure that Hermione was no doubt well organized, and if he simply looked in the correct places, he would have no troubles; on the surface at least.

First there was the desk. It was arranged in an orderly fashion, much as he would have done, he was surprised to notice. A neatly penned schedule was fastened to the wall. He quickly duplicated it onto an extra parchment he found and reduced it. Wouldn't do for Hermione to suddenly forget her schedule! Next he located her book bag and rifled through it, making sure he knew which folders contained which assignments, and that he had the appropriate books ready for tomorrow's classes. He sighed. How he was going to get through that he would never know.

He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the room. Thankfully the colour scheme was relatively neutral with only splashes of the tacky Gryffindor colours. He would be able to live with this while they sorted out this body-switching. Longbottom couldn't make a simple potion work, but he could create something new altogether. Snape wandered over to the closet to investigate further. Inside he found Hermione's robes hung neatly along with several skirts; a number of which Snape found too short to be decent for public wear, and a small wardrobe in which he located shirts, pants, socks, bras, knickers, and . . . a surprising amount of racy lingerie. He held one up against his new body, blushing as he realized just how little skin it would actually cover. He hastily shoved it back in the drawer. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn Crookshanks was smirking at him.

 _'Enough of this foolishness!'_ he exclaimed, trying to get used to hearing the bossy girl's voice. _'Now remember,_ he told himself sternly, _answer to Hermione, and call them Ron and Harry, not Weasley and Potter . . . but Malfoy is still Malfoy.'_ Snape stripped down, tossed his clothes in a hamper and climbed gracefully into bed.

 _Nox,_ he whispered, laying his head down and forcing himself to fall asleep. He admitted to himself that he was curious about his new body, but further discovery of it could wait.

Morning would be here too soon for his taste.

* * *

 

Down in the dungeons, Hermione was milling around. She thanked Merlin that she was in Advanced Potions and had been tutoring her less than fortunate classmates for years in the subject. She felt sure she would be able to teach without any problems. However she had to be one-hundred percent Snape while teaching; now that was the issue she was worried about. Absently she began to chew on her bottom lip. _'Shit!'_ thought Hermione, a bit uncharacteristically. _'I absolutely cannot fall into my nervous habits. Snape would never do something like that. Bloody git probably doesn't have nervous habits. Calm down, Hermione! He's not a git. This isn't his fault, you just need to relax and sort things out.'_ She took a deep breath, and wandered into the Potions classroom to ascertain whether or not he had a lesson plan so that she would know what to cover in her classes tomorrow. She found lesson outlines and was suddenly glad she had made herself out to be a brainy know-it-all in every class; barring Divination that is. She could certainly improvise. This told her all she needed to know: what potions they'd done and what potions they were doing next. At least she didn't have Snape in class tomorrow. Hopefully she'd be able to meet with him to discuss the advanced classes. Maybe she'd give him detention. She grinned at the thought, even though it would ultimately look like the Head Girl was in trouble.

 _'Alright, think, Hermione,'_ she thought savagely, with the same determination and worry she expressed during her first year immediately prior to her Sorting, _'what do I need to do to ensure that no one can tell I'm not really Snape?_ ' An idea came to her, a flash as bright as a wand lit with _Lumos_. She'd make a list and keep it handy. As long as no one caught her referencing it, she'd be just fine.

She fetched a quill and parchment and penned: Best ways to impersonate Professor Snape. She eyed her handwriting. That had to go. It looked nothing like his spidery, if careful, penmanship. She located some poor student's essay, liberally spattered with red comments, and charmed a handful of quills to write in said script.

She started the list over on fresh parchment. _'Much better,'_ she thought, this will fool anyone as long as I use one of these quills. She studied them objectively and charmed each of the twelve quills into lovely green feathers to set them apart, and then set herself down to compose the list.

  1. Be a bloody git. Hermione herself may not consider the man a git, but near as she could tell just about everyone else did, so she'd have to go with it.
  2. Snarky. That would need a bit of practice as it wasn't in her nature. She made a side note. Act like you do when you're really annoyed with Ron.
  3. Figure out the billowing robes. Number three would be a dead give-away if the robes didn't billow out behind her like great bat wings.
  4. Practice deducting points . . . from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Leave Slytherin alone.
  5. Get a feel for the voice. Four and five would work well together. She smirked at an imaginary student. _'That will be fifty points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter!'_   Hearing Snape's voice, not just aloud, but insider her own head as well made her shiver. He may not be Min, but the professor had a voice like steel-wrapped velvet that she could listen to all day.
  6. Call your friends Potter and Weasley. Hermione sighed.
  7. Be nice to Draco. She sighed again.
  8. Glare. She had a feeling she'd be so annoyed that this wouldn't cause any issues at all.
  9. Swoop. If she got number 3 down, this should work alongside of it nicely. She hoped. Image and all that.
  10. Roam the halls at night. This she was used to, being Head Girl and all. Perhaps she'd be able to discuss certain issues with Snape at this time; if he didn't neglect in her duties of patrolling.
  11. Deduct more points.
  12. Hover threateningly over students. Too bad she couldn't do this to Draco.



Hermione reviewed her list and found it adequate. She tucked it neatly into one of her many pockets; the robe seemed to be nothing but pockets, and swept off to explore the rest of the man's chambers. In the long hallway that connected his private rooms to his personal laboratory and the classroom, she conjured wizard mirrors, one on each end, and practiced swooping back and forth down the hallway until one of them complimented her on her sweeping stride and billowing robes. For now, it would suffice. She got rid of the mirrors and progressed into the man's bedroom. And stood still, mouth agape.

Snape's bedroom was gorgeous. There was no other word for it. It was spacious and tastefully decorated; not in House colours but in deep shades of blue. Snape owned the largest canopy bed Hermione had ever set eyes on. Well-known tapestries of Unicorns were draped here and there, sconces emitted a rich, buttery light, and a marble fireplace was nestled in one corner and kept the room at a much more palatable temperature than the rest of the dungeons were at. An enchanted window showed scenes of the night sky and Hermione recalled that the dungeons were under the lake. A rich carpet spread across the floor, crossing underneath the bed and out the other side, ending at the door to what must be his bathroom.

Tearing her eyes away from the unexpected lushness of the room, she made her way over to the wardrobe. Then she tried the dresser. "Bloody hell!" she exclaimed. "Doesn't the man have pyjamas anywhere?" A second rifling through drawers brought the only possible conclusion; he slept starkers. "Urggh!" was the only response Hermione could muster. She'd sleep in boxers and his body would like it or lump it.

She began unbuttoning his outer robes, and then his inner robes, and then his frock coat and . . . _'Merlin! How many buttons did he fasten up every morning? Was it really necessary for the man to wear so many layers?'_ She finally made it down to the boxers, and quickly slipped under the covers. She did not want to think about it, much less risk seeing it.

Hermione fell into an uneasy slumber. Her nerves were fraught with tension.

 

She awoke the next morning just as tense. Unfortunately her tension had moved to a central location. Her boxers. She stared at the tent in horror and disbelief. What was she to do with this . . . new development?

She also had to pee.

Hermione walked awkwardly to the bathroom and dropped her boxers on the ground. She just couldn't touch it, and sat down on toilet as she would have in her own body. Nothing happened. She really had to pee and she couldn't. Being a guy sucked. Hermione sighed. Now she understood why guys took cold showers. She stepped into the shower and turned it on, holding back a yelp at the frigid water, standing there until the pressure went down and she could change the temperature to something more pleasing. She looked about for the shampoo. There wasn't any, just a small bottle of what appeared to be body wash. If that's what he used for shampoo, or if, evidently, he used none at all, it would explain why he got called greasy git. Hermione sighed again. She hated to call on a house elf, but found no other option. Making sure the shower curtain was firmly closed, she snuck a hand out and rang the bell she had seen sitting on the counter.

Mere seconds later, an elf appeared. "Yes, Master Snape, Sir?" squeaked the elf. "What can Muffy do for you?"

 _'Muffy?'_ thought Hermione. She wondered who the fool was that named these elves. Their names just got worse and worse.

"It would appear that I am out of my regular shampoo," she told the elf.

"Muffy will get you some, sir, just hold on one second, Master Snape, sir!"

Two quick pops later, and a small arm was handing her a heavy bottle around the curtain. "Is Master Snape needing anything else, sir?" Hermione looked around the shower. She supposed what she had would do for now.

"No," she said stiffly to the waiting elf, "I have what I need."

The elf disappeared with another pop and Hermione was left alone. She stepped back under the shower and soaked her new hair through and through. When she felt it was wet enough, she squeezed a good-sized dollop of shampoo in her hand and began to wash. When the rich black hair was finally clean enough for Hermione, she rinsed herself off and stepped out of the shower, quickly wrapping herself in the robe she found, lest she catch an unwanted glimpse of her professor's body in the mirror.

Hermione realized she still had to pee. She sat back down and relieved the pressure that was nearly painful by this point. Then she pondered this newest problem. _'Do I wipe it off?'_   Before she could help herself, an old Muggle advertisement ran through her head, _A little dab'll do ya!_   Oh boy. She took a few squares of toilet paper and tried to blot herself off without actually looking at what she was doing. She thought she was going to die right then and there.

* * *

 

Several floors up, Severus was having an equally frustrating morning. The sunlight, which he was quite unused to, had woken him as it crept across his face. He stretched, and strode into the bathroom to prepare for the day. Much to his chagrin, he nearly made quite a mess before it occurred to him that sitting would be the best course of action for the bathroom in this body. That chore done with, he nimbly climbed into the shower and drenched himself under the soothing warm water. Thoroughly wet, he turned to examine the various products that lined Hermione's shower wall. _'Thank Merlin they're labeled,'_ thought Snape. He noticed that these were not Muggle products and that they seemed to be home-made.   _'I wonder what else Hermione's been brewing off to the side?'_ wondered Snape. He fetched the shampoo and carefully washed his hair. Snape knew that his students thought him to have no personal hygiene of his own, but the fact of the matter was that most Potions Masters could be labeled greasy due to the number of cauldrons they worked over, day in, day out. He did at least make sure to wash his skin carefully, and if the dunderheads that Albus called students ever thought about it, they'd have realized ages ago that if he didn't wash at all, they would have been able to smell him when he swooped around their stations to check their work.

That done, he moved on to the conditioner and then the body wash. He groaned. He felt a bit of a pervert as he soaped Hermione's rather large breasts and ample curves, her narrow waist, soft thighs and ..... _Mmm!.... Quick man! Think of potions ingredients. Think of Hooch in a bikini! Miss Granger is your student, for Merlin's sake!_ Needless to say, he washed the rest of the young woman's body rather quickly. He sighed. Now he smelled like . . . flowers and vanilla with a hint of honey and brown sugar. It was a pleasant smell, he grudgingly admitted to himself. It smelled nice on Hermione's skin. Snape mentally slapped himself. __'Wolfsbane! Asphodel! Stewed Ashwinder Eggs -- shoot, those were all ingredients for lust potions! Hooch, Hooch in a bikini, Albus in a bikini!_  _Now there was a truly frightening thought; it would do him no good to be thinking of the Head Girl in that manner, even if he was living in her body for the time being. At least in this body there would be no obvious signs of his arousal.

* * *

 

Back in the dungeons, Hermione was inspecting her appearance. _'Gawds, how could the man stand to have such yellow teeth?'_ Hermione wondered. No wonder he didn't notice the difference in her teeth that year. Given, she was a bit biased, having dentists for parents, but the man was a wizard! Why didn't he just charm them clean? She scrubbed at them for about ten minutes before giving up and using an ever so small of a charm to take the worst of it off so she could stand it. At least his . . . her breath was much better. Next there was the hair. She had combed it dry and took a look. It fell in soft waves around her face, glossy and shiny. This would never do. She couldn't unwash it, so she did the next best thing. She slipped into his private laboratory and stood over the most noxious brew she could find for a few minutes. When she stepped back into the bathroom, the soft wavy, glossy look was gone. It was still shiny, but more towards that greasy-shiny than clean-shiny look, though it still felt nice enough. It would have to suffice. She was starving. It had taken forever to put all of Snape's clothes on. _'Far, far too many buttons,'_ she thought again. She wondered what the man had for breakfast. No doubt the elves knew and would place something appropriate at her seat in the Great Hall.

* * *

 

Snape was staring at himself morosely in the mirror. It was an odd thing, he realized, to be looking at yourself ostensibly, but seeing someone else's reflection. He gingerly picked up the blush and attempted to spread it across his cheeks as Hermione had instructed. He did the same with the lipstick. He looked too pink for his taste. He had no idea if he was even wearing enough, but Hermione never seemed as if she were wearing makeup, not that he'd really studied her that closely, so he took a tissue and blotted his cheeks and lips until he was satisfied.

He moved back into the bedroom to dress. He decided that it was a good thing that Hermione's clothes were button-ups, not pull-overs or the clothes would be wearing the makeup and he'd have had to reapply it. _'It will be the little things,'_    Snape thought, _'the little things that will blow this illusion.'_   Suitably dressed, he gathered up his book bag and stepped out of his room for the Great Hall. Breakfast would be the first test.


	4. This, too, shall pass

Halfway down to the Great Hall, Severus was joined by Wea--Ron and Pot---Harry. _'Somewhere the Fates are laughing at me,'_   thought Severus.  
  
"Hullo, Hermione!" exclaimed the boys, "How are you this morning?"  
  
The urge to be dour was overwhelming and with this new body, he was learning that it was hard to mask his emotions. Luckily it would seem that either Hermione wasn't a morning person, or that Ron and Harry simply were not very observant people. Then again, how many teenage boys are very observant if it doesn't have to do with sex, food, or sports? "Fine, thanks," said Severus.   
  
The three students made their way into the Great Hall, Harry and Ron laughing over something and Severus trying to look interested until he realized it was Quidditch. He knew that from his own observations that while Hermione would support the boys when they were actually playing, she tended to tune out discussions of the sport; thus, he was safe in doing the same. It wouldn't do for Hermione to suddenly express a heretofore absent interest in Ron and Harry's favourite sport.  
  
They sat down in their usual spots at the Gryffindor table, and waited for the food to make an appearance.  
  
The doors suddenly swung open with a bang as Professor Snape swooped towards his seat in the Great Hall.  
  
Severus watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye, glad that she got the movement of his robes down so quickly and that she obviously knew where he sat at the High Table.  
  
Hermione was starving. She took her seat at Snape's place and waited for his breakfast to materialize. With a soft pop a mug of extremely potent black coffee appeared. She waited. Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. _'Didn't the man eat?'_ she wondered. She scowled at the table. A small piece of toast appeared. _'Well, that's better than nothing,'_ Hermione decided as she took a bite followed by a sip of the coffee. She nearly spit it out it was so strong. She scowled again, this time directing it at the 'Golden Trio'  
  
"Wow, Hermione," said Ron nervously, "Snape's looking your way and he looks bloody ticked off. Did the potion have some bad result?"  
  
Severus chanced a glance at Hermione, noticing the way his . . . her brows were knit together, the way her lip curled in disgust . . . and the mug of coffee in her hand. Gods how he wanted that cup _'. . . I would do anything for it,'_ thought Severus with an inaudible sigh. He shrugged at Ron and Harry. "I don't know, I guess Snape's just in a bad mood this morning."  
  
"You must be too," commented Harry.  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other. "You called him Snape, like we do, 'Mione, and you're forever telling us that we need to be respectful and call him Professor Snape and that he's not a git, and you know, all of that," explained Ron.  
  
Severus was surprised though he was careful not to show it. _'Miss Granger defends me?'_    "I guess I'm just tired, Ron," he told them, "The Draught of Living Death takes a lot out of you," he continued, thinking idly that not having one's morning coffee also takes a lot out of you and no doubt by the end of the day everyone would be steering clear of Hermione.  
  
Hermione was having similar thoughts as she watched Snape watch her. She slipped her hands into her robes and conjured a clear glass vial into which she discretely poured the remaining coffee. One sip had told her it wasn't for her. She'd slip back down to the dungeons and have a house elf bring her something before her first class. She hated the thought of going through them but didn't see any other alternative for the meantime.  
  
She slipped out of her seat and strode towards the Gryffindors.  
  
The boys looked on suspiciously while the girl just eyed her appraisingly. "Miss Granger," she said stiffly as she handed her the vial, "It is imperative that you take this potion as soon as possible to help with any after effects of the accident. You will take it as many mornings as it is deemed necessary."  
  
Severus eyed the vial and then eyed Hermione. "What is it, sir?"  
  
"Don't ask foolish questions, girl, just drink it. I'm not out to poison the lot of you, despite what you may think."

Severus uncorked the vial and sniffed it. _'Coffee, it's my coffee, thank Merlin!'_   Without a second thought he drank down the entire vial and handed the bottle back to Hermione. "Thank you, Professor Snape," he said.  
  
Hermione merely nodded at him and swept out of the Hall.  


* * *

  
The coffee much improved Severus's mood and he felt much more able to attend Hermione's classes. He got through Advanced Charms, Herbology, and Arithmancy without any difficulty as they were all classes he had excelled at himself; he was relived to find that nothing had really changed. Hermione's wand worked well enough for him, though he lacked some of the finesse he had with his own, but his skill in the subjects made up for the lack.  
  
After lunch came Expert Transfiguration. Severus was truly dreading this class. Not only was it a subject he was never that skilled in, considering it foolish wand waving, even though he did pass his NEWTS with top marks, he was also dreading facing the Deputy Headmistress. _'Merlin only knows what Hermione's usually like in class,'_ thought Severus in despair. He only hoped that they were discrete enough to act like nothing was afoot behind-the-scenes while in class. Thankfully, it seemed that their classroom relationship was quite professional.  
  
After class, Severus gathered his belongings together as quick as he could and made to escape while the professor was busy. This was where his luck started to dry up.  
  
"Miss Granger," called Professor McGonagall.  
  
  
_'Bloody hell,'_ he thought, _'Almost made it.'_ "Yes, Professor?" he said, turning around to face the older woman.  
  
"You did very well today, Hermione, but some of your wand movements were a little off," the Deputy Headmistress explained, "I think you need to come by this evening for some extra lessons. The potions accident from the other day and your stay in the hospital seems to have affected your skill. Remember I said you need to practice every night, especially if you hope to perfect your animagus form."

"Yes, Professor," said Severus. "What time should I come by?"  
  
Minerva eyed her student appreciatively. "Let's say eight o'clock, shall we? That will give us both time for dinner, and then you can meet me in my private chambers, Hermione. Does that suit you?"  
  
_'No! It doesn't suit me at all!'_ Severus wanted to exclaim. Instead he murmured, "Yes, Professor, that suits me fine." Severus smiled, a bit timidly, at the older woman, and traipsed back to his room.  
  
Minerva watched her go; eyes so bright as to rival Albus. 

* * *

  
By the time Hermione had reached the dungeons, waylaid by practicing her best smirks and snarkiness by deducting points from quite a number of students, Slytherins aside, of course, and ensuring that she had everything she needed for her first class, she had had no time to eat what she considered a real breakfast, making her nearly as irritable as Severus would find himself over the course of the next week. _'Perhaps we'll just let him walk into that one,'_ thought Hermione. _'I may respect the man, but good old fashioned revenge is often sweet . . . if a little bit messy when one doesn't see it coming, or even have any reference points from his own life to expect it!'_  
  
  
Hermione was pacing back and forth in the classroom, eyeing her first year students as they attempted to brew the standard first year boil curing potion. She prayed that none of these students had skills reminiscent of Longbottom that would result in one or more students being coated with foul substance resulting in a trip to the infirmary to remove said boils.  
  
The students were used to their professor glaring at them and swooping up and down the aisles to check for the tiniest of infractions, so his pacing across the front of the classroom somehow seemed like a better deal to the unsure students.  
  
Unfortunately, one of them caused an explosion anyway; one worthy of Longbottom. Hermione caught sight of the mess as it started to boil over and cast a containment charm on it while glaring at the luckless students paired at the cauldron. Hermione's fast reflexes saved the classroom as well as most of the students from injury and destruction. The duo working on the potion, however, had started to sport a few nasty boils. Apparently the potion had splattered a bit before it started to noticeably boil over the sides. "Mr. Hooper, please escort Ms. Redman to the infirmary at once and since you were the last one to touch the potion, stay with her until Madam Pomfrey says she will live." The two students, sufficiently cowed, headed towards the door. "Oh, and twenty points from Ravenclaw for your carelessness, Mr. Hooper," Hermione said with a smirk.  
  
At last the morning classes were over and she could relax in her office. She stared at the pile of papers that needed marking, finally grabbing a handful, hoping to make a dent in them, though, given the sheer ineptness of the students she'd taught this morning, she doubted she'd find any essays that weren't calling to be slaughtered by the quill.  
  
As she worked on the essays, she heard a knock at the classroom door. "Enter," she called magnanimously. She heard the door open and then slam shut. _'Must be 'me'.'_  
  
She turned to see herself, a bit flushed and scowling staring at her.  
  
"Yes, Miss Granger? To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"  
  
  
Severus scowled at her. "Drop the act, Hermione," hissed Severus. "No one is in the classroom, and there are silencing charms on this office. I get to enjoy extra studies starting tonight."  
  
Hermione grinned. The look was quite odd on Severus's wan face. "You're lucky they didn't start when we were still in the infirmary," she growled, "Minerva gets lonely quite fast."  
  
  
"Swell," was the only response to this new information. After a pause, Severus asked, "You're training to be an animagus?"  
  
"Yes, we started a few weeks ago."  
  
"Do you have a form yet? Minerva said we'd be working on that tonight . . . I'm not sure if my form will affect yours any when practice comes about. That is if we're actually doing anything that would constitute as school work tonight," this last bit came off quite put out.  
  
Hermione considered this. "I've never read anything that would lead me to believe it would be a problem, yet I suppose we are in a rather unique situation."   
  
"You Gryffindors do have a way with stating the obvious, Hermione. Do you have an established form?"  
  
Hermione frowned at Severus.  
  
"No, Severus, I do not. Min wanted to firmly establish the theory of the transformation before any attempt was made on my part. What I would like to know is, what is your form and will it leave a lingering affect effect on whatever my form should be or should have been?"  
  
Severus could only shake his head. "That I do not know, Hermione, we shall have to wait and see. The only bit of luck I see left here is that you do not have a shape yet, therefore if I transform into my own animagus for during lessons, Minerva will be none the wiser as she's never seen mine."  
  
"Tsk, tsk, Severus. Unregistered, are we?"  
  
Severus scowled at Hermione. "Well wouldn't you be if you were a spy for the Dark Lord?"  
  
Hermione smiled. "True, I suppose that slipped my mind. I'm not used to wearing the Dark Mark." Hermione shuddered slightly at this thought. "Would I be able to transform while in your body?"  
  
"And let us pray, Miss Granger that you never have to feel the terrible pull of the Mark either." Severus thought about her question. "I suppose you would be able to, but if you haven't attempted it before you could risk being stuck that way and then we'd really have a mess on our hands. If you stay in your animagus form too long, you risk being stuck like that forever unless someone who shares the same or very similar form can lure you back out. Your mind gets stuck in the animal mentality."  
  
"Hmmm," mused Hermione. "Min mentioned something about that, but she didn't go into much detail. I think she's hoping I'll be a kitty so that we can have another way to play together."  
  
Severus shuddered in pure horror. "I really didn't want to know that, Miss Granger! Bleargh!"  
  
Hermione grinned. Severus noted that the look actually suited his face and made him appear younger than his years. Not that he had any intentions to go around grinning like a fool when he got his body back. Though the idea had merit in as such it would certainly terrorize a few students to see their dreaded Potions Master smiling at them.  
  
Hermione checked the time. "You'd better get going or you won't have much time for dinner before your extra lessons, Severus."  
  
He nodded. "Have you decided on lessons for the Advanced class for tomorrow?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I think I know what will be best; but I think I'll just let you wait and see like everyone else. Go on."  
  
Severus scowled. Hermione scowled back. Severus stepped back nervously. Yep, he was definitely intimidating; he'd be on his way now.  
  
  
Hermione grinned to herself as Severus scampered away. Her body just couldn't handle some of his more graceful exits and he had to settle for more girly ones, as he had put it. Scowling did not suit her face, it made her look pouty. She needed to train him out of that particular habit; at least while he was wearing her skin.

* * *

  
Severus was sauntering back upstairs to head for dinner when the drawling tones of Malfoy caught his attention.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the mudblood down in the snake's lair," he intoned, his voice sickening in its syrupy-sweet way. Severus hated it. He hated what Draco had said nearly as much. Hermione was bossy, and a know-it-all, but dragging such terms as mudblood up really was low.  
  
He turned and faced the blond Slytherin.  
  
"And just what is the mudblood doing, sullying the cool dungeon air for? Trying to worm your way into an apprenticeship? Professor Snape will never take a bossy wench like you."  
  
Severus was livid. As if he'd take Malfoy for an apprentice. He really had no desire to take any student as an apprentice, but although Malfoy had excellent marks in Potions, he had no desire nor care for the Potions he brewed. His potions were good and they worked well enough, but they had no deep magical signature imbued in them which is what made them potent. Wouldn't Draco be surprised when 'Severus' did indeed take 'Hermione' as an assistant.  
  
  
He smirked. This look he had more or less perfected on Hermione's softer features. It wasn't as intimidating as it would have been in his own skin, but it still elicited a delightful response in others.   
  
"And what would a prat like you know about it? You're too much of a git to take potions when you need to because it would mean admitting there were things you couldn't handle."  
  
"As if, Granger. You don't know anything about me."  
  
"You're a screamer, Malfoy, and you," her voice got low, _wet the bed_ , she hissed out.  
  
"Are you taking the mickey, Granger? How dare you suggest . . ."  
  
Severus placed one hand on his hip, shifted his weight and made a well-known dirty Slytherin gesture with the other. One he knew Malfoy would recognize as his esteemed father was fond of it. One that indicated that through some means of Slytherin cunning, whatever had just been said was known by the speaker to be pure and utter truth.  
  
Malfoy paled, turned tail and ran the other way.  
  
Severus smirked. _'Glad to see I haven't lost my touch. Haven't used that little move since I was a student!'_  
  
  
He strolled the rest of the way to Great Hall feeling quite pleased with himself.  
  
Severus lingered over dinner as long as possible. He was not looking forward to the evening's activities. _'Just my luck,'_ he thought. _'I'd never get a woman while in my own skin, and now that I'm in the skin of Hermione, who I suppose is pretty enough, and thankfully is attracted to woman . . .Merlin only knows what I'd do if I had to pretend interest in Ron or Harry! . . . and I'm stuck with Minerva, the old hag!'_  
  
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned to find Harry watching him intently. "Mione, are you okay? You seem . . . I don't know, sort of nervous."  
  
Severus smiled to the best of his ability, willing himself not to flinch under Harry's touch. "I'm okay Harry. I'm . . . it's just that we might actually start into some more difficult lessons tonight . . ." he said vaguely, not sure how much they knew.  
  
  
"But Hermione," protested Harry, "you love difficult lessons! You did fine brewing the Polyjuice our second year and I know for this you've read every single book on animagi that exists in Hogwarts!"  
  
  
So they did know. He shook his head. "I've heard you can get stuck in your animal form if you're not careful though. Maybe I'm just remembering my Polyjuice experience being half-human, half-cat!" she exclaimed despondently.

  
Harry smiled. "Yeah, but that potion wasn't meant for animal transfiguration, Hermione. What you're doing now is meant for animal transformation, and you're a smart witch. I'm sure you'll do just fine, and if you get stuck, Professor McGonagall will be right there to help you." Harry finished reasonably.  
  
Severus was surprised to find that the boy could think logically and appeared to be quite sensitive to his friends needs. _'Thank Merlin he isn't as dense as he would appear to be, or we'd all be in trouble.'_  
  
  
He nodded morosely. "You're . . . right, Harry," he said, trying not to seethe with having to tell the boy he was right about something. Harry didn't notice. He put down his napkin. "I guess I should go, I'll catch up with you all later if it isn't too late."  
  
  
He glanced up at the Head Table. Minerva was watching him intently. Severus felt he was being watched by something that considered him prey. Hermione was also at the High Table, glaring furiously at him. He frowned, almost not recognizing the emotion in her eyes as it was so out of place on his face. She was jealous!

* * *

  
The walk to Minerva's private chambers seemed far longer than usual, and at the same time, he was there all too soon for his liking. He raised a hand and knocked. _'I could still run away,'_   he thought.  
  
  
"Enter!" called out a jovial voice. She had gone the back way and beaten him.  
  
Sighing heavily, he reached out his hand, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. His fate was now sealed.


End file.
